


Harder

by renecdote



Series: hc_bingo 2017 [16]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Damian is a little shit, Forced to hurt someone, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Jason is a good brother, but he has good intentions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-27
Updated: 2017-12-27
Packaged: 2019-02-22 11:44:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13166238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/renecdote/pseuds/renecdote
Summary: “Very well then,” Black Mask says. “Interrogate him. And make sure it hurts - I want those capes to think twice before coming around here again.”





	Harder

**Author's Note:**

> For the "forced to hurt someone" square on my hurt/comfort bingo card.

The words “look what we have here” have scarcely crossed Black Mask’s lips before Jason is cringing beneath his helmet. He does not want to look. He knows exactly what he’s going to see and he doesn’t like it. Not one bit. It -  _ he _ , because the girls aren’t stupid enough to get caught so it must be one of his brothers - complicates things.

He looks. Curses in his head in every language he can think of. 

“Robin,” he snarls. It sounds disgusted and enraged to the outside world but Jason is sure Damian will know it means  _ what the fuck are you doing here it’s past your bedtime and you’re complicating my life. _

Black Mask’s henchmen are grinning viciously. One of them kicks lightly at the bound bird at their feet and laughs when Damian tries to bite at him around the gag in his mouth. Jason wonders with some amusement whether the gag was put in for that very reason. He knows all about the little demon and his penchant for leaving teeth marks behind. He’s pretty sure he’s even got a scar to prove it.

“Where’d you find him?” Jason asks.

One of the thugs points a thumb over his shoulder and answers, “Lurking out the back. Spying or trying to find a way in or somethin’. Figured you’d want to see ‘im.”

Black Mask is considering the kid at his feet with a quiet kind of glee that makes Jason’s stomach curdle. Roman Sionas, bane of his fricken existence but unfortunately necessary “partner” in crime until he can dismantle his operation.

“Find out what he knows,” Black Mask says. “Then kill him.”

The henchmen grab Damian, holding his wriggling body between them like he’s some kind of venomous worm, and start carting him away toward one of the back rooms. 

Jason steps forward. “Wait.” The henchmen pause. Black Mask pivots to look at him. “Let me to do it.”

“I thought you didn’t hurt children,” Black Mask says. His considering look is pinning Jason in place now, trying to dissect his cover and reveal any hidden motives.

“I don’t,” Jason says with a half-shrug. He nods toward the writhing bird who’s growling and trying to curse out everyone here. He manages to jerk a shoulder back solidly into one thug’s chest and doesn’t seem to care that if he drops him he’ll land on his head. Jason injects a sneer into his voice and adds, “But that’s hardly a child. He’s a fucking Bat.”

A beat of nerve wracking silence, and then Black Mask chuckles. He claps a hand on Jason’s shoulder and Jason allows himself to cringe beneath his helmet. 

“Very well then,” Black Mask says. “Interrogate him. And make sure it hurts - I want those capes to think twice before coming around here again.”

“My pleasure,” Jason says. He even manages to make it sound vicious and gleeful instead of like it’s the last thing he wants to do.

The henchmen shrug and drop Robin back to the ground. Jason hauls him up and tosses him over his shoulder, with what is probably unnecessary force but. Maintaining bad guy cover. And all that jazz. Besides, the kid deserves it for being out past his bedtime and  _ complicating Jason’s life. _

“I’m going to kill you,” he hisses as he (gently) throws Damian in a chair in one of the warehouse’s back rooms and starts tying him to it. This is supposed to be an interrogation, so he pulls the gag out of Damian’s mouth and tosses it aside. 

Damian, the little shit, does not even look mildly phased by the  _ very serious  _ threat. “Tt. I think your boss would prefer you kept me alive until after I’ve spilled my secrets.” He wiggles his wrists, testing the give on the ropes. “These need to be tighter, Todd. What are you, an amateur?”

Jason gives the rope he’s tying a sharp tug and the kid winces. When he’s done, Jason steps back, crosses his arms and considers Damian with a frown. Damian wiggles his limbs in their bonds again and nods to himself, then he leans back and looks up at Jason. The moment stretches between them.

“What are you doing?” the brats asks after maybe a minute.

“Thinking.” 

Damian wrinkles his nose like he’s smelt something bad. Or he’s questioning Jason’s intelligence and wants him to know it. “It’s not that hard, Todd. Beat me up a bit and then I will find an opening to escape.”

Jason rolls his eyes. “You may be a pain in the arse, kid, but I’m not going to beat you up.”

Damian rocks forward, tipping the chair dangerously and Jason automatically  reaches out to steady him. Damian snaps his teeth at his fingers and Jason snatches hand away. 

“If you do not hit me,” he says. “They will assume we are-“ his lips twist with distaste- “in cahoots and kill us both.”

Jason mutters a curse because he knows Damian is right and he hates it. With a passion. He sighs. Then pulls back his fist and hits him. It’s a sloppy punch, aimed somewhere it’ll hurt the least. Doesn’t stop Jason from feeling extremely guilty about hitting his kid brother. He does not want to do this, had only volunteered so someone else wouldn’t and to find a way to help Damian escape.

“You’re going to blow your cover,” Damian informs him. He hadn’t even twitched at the punch. 

Jason snorts, shakes his head. He takes a step back. “I’m not going to hurt you, kid.”

“I can take it.”

Jason has no doubt he can. It  _ hurts _ having no doubt that Damian can take whatever pain he dishes out because he grew up playing with medieval weapons instead of LEGO. He shakes his head. That doesn’t mean he’s going to do it.

The kid tips his chin up and glares at him. “I trust you, Todd,” he says, with a hoity little sniff like he’s not entirely sure why he does. He means it, though, wouldn’t be saying it if he didn’t. “Do you trust me?”

Jason stares at him incredulously. The fuck kind of question is that at a time like this? This is not the time for a tête-a-tête about feelings and family and vigilante alliances and shit. But the kid is still glaring at him, his young face all hard lines and. God. He really is a mini Bruce. Jason is arguing with a mini Bruce. And he remembers these strange stare-off type arguments with actual Bruce and Jason only ever won when Alfred stood behind him and looked disappointed.

“Yes,” he bites out eventually. “Jesus H. Christ, yes, I fucking trust you.”

A smirk curls Damian’s lips. Satisfied. Maybe pleased. And he says, “Then hit. me. harder.”

Jason curses under his breath in every language he can think of. Curses Black Mask. Curses Damian and this whole stupid situation. Curses himself.

He hits the kid harder.


End file.
